But in a row of cards I cannot yet choose,
Nor pick by chance a single hope to see,
I am simply looking both ways what chance brought,
My failures are simply better cards placed to win,
Though I cannot for life decide what I want,
Must you give me a chance to fall to rise?
Then I am sane, I am living for sane insane,
But these whispers in the dark are clear,
Longing or messaged, there’s a fickle feat,
Aye, there’s a time to be had to be made time,
In a world where for a moment nothing made sense,
Along the way you pick up the things never thought,
A simple measure, but no greater than what you are,
I am looking back at the soot that blackens woe,
I see the heart that burns coal into smoked skin,
Then his blood congeals round and no better said;
The lot ye call us fools are suits for bandits,
Then asks by dilemma none withheld but scorned,
Why then so mild in taste when simple answers?
Shall I but with zinc my colour turn whiter,
A simple voice but simply mine original none,
Give the children their ways of hope and laugh,
What better way to deal with despair than laugh?
Must my violence to life be my violence to laugh?
Shall I slit myself and whiten better and kneel?
This simple thought, I am lingering; this simple,
Who calls mad, who calls through the devil to play,
Then he walks with heels and a honk and a pimp,
There he feels himself and looks through chasms,
Underneath the silk is his madness to his life,
Then he thinks, then he feels, then wonders where,
If only, there’s little he could have done to pray,
But if the politics is madness then so am I,
You are merely a character in a fool’s play,
I feel myself bringing myself to the sun in burns,
But more zinc I shall white, more red I shall seep,
Then you, that which you are: Mirror – behold!
Then he juggles, then he’s a human, then he’s whole,
But can a priest truly be so virtuous lest human?
I give it freely my instincts are so base and base,
Then I am human again, no priest here; no priest there,
I am living the life of a stranger in a fool’s demise,
Then when life rests at the peak of the last sun –
There, just there, I see myself before rivers at last.

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